My Milkshake Brings all the Sims under Cars

There was some kind of jumbled live performance I was watching of a song from South Park, I couldn't quite understand the meaning of it. Some part of the joke related to frogs in blenders, but since the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were present they did not find it funny. So they had to change the reference in mid song.

After the performance, there was a guy who was trying to compare the attractiveness of a model on a TV to me and another guy in the room.

comparer: "I think he's cuter."

Note
It wasn't clear who he meant, but it wasn't the model on the screen.

There was someone who had been in the performance I wanted to ask about it. I introduced myself.

performer: (snidely) "What's up with the introduction, you another gay?"

me: "I have a question."

performer: "Not interested in you or your motives."

He walked away. On the other side of the room, I went and sat on a sofa next to a girl I thought I recognized, but not as anyone in particular. She had dark features and seemed to have some kind of birthmark or minor burn on her face.

me: "Jeez. I don't really understand what's wrong with people. Makes one feel like sticking to knowing the five people one already knows."

girl: "You were asking me before how it is that I remember what I wore every day from the past. Well, the wardrobe is of great importance, and I associate it strongly with each occasion. A big impression was made on me once when I was a child. Someone called me bampa--and in Kef, that means 'blimp'."

Note

bampa and Kef are approximate, though I have greater confidence that Kef is correct. For what it is worth, kef as a word can mean:

1 : a state of dreamy tranquillity

2 : a smoking material (as marijuana) that produces kef

...and I'll reiterate for any readership who thinks my dreams originate from psychedelic drug use, they do not. I drink a lot of alcohol, but that's basically it.

To my right there was a girl without a shirt who was reasonably attractive. I wasn't wearing a shirt either. Some people started getting on the sofa and squishing us in closer together.

me: "Not such a bad situation for me, yet, why do they keep getting on this sofa? There are others available."

The squishing continued and eventually we were somehow all led to go single file down a series of very wide steps. It reminded me of an amusement park ride entrance, like the tunnels for Disney's Indiana Jones ride. However, this was straight down, and very steep. We were supposed to follow guides who were narrating, but I couldn't keep up--I wanted to be careful about my steps.

I ran into some forks in the paths and didn't know which one to take, but I took the one where I could hear voices below. As I did, I had to avoid a rat that ran past me.

voice one: "It's mechanical."

voice two: "You'd think if this is your business they'd have something better than one mechanical rat."

Stopping the rat the next time it went by, I saw it was fairly shoddily made. I began having some suspicions, and decided to exit the tunnel. The next thing I saw was a series of people going into the tunnels but in the line was a giant monster truck. I knew that would not end well, and tried to get them to stop. But it was too late--the oblivious people were crushed in a barrel of carnage as the truck flipped down onto them in the steep steps.

The next thing I saw were two old-ish conspirators who had apparently sent out advertisements for these tours and said that "cars can fit in the tunnels and are welcome" (or something like that). It had been a ploy to get the place shut down so they could buy it and re-purpose it. I saw them setting up a table for some kind of summer camp which I believe involved virtual reality, they were laying their black-on-yellow signs onto a white table.

Someone criticized how little hors d'ourves they had gotten. They'd gotten like, one milkshake everyone had to share... then several tubs of different kinds of marshmallow creme with different textures. And some strawberries.

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The accounts written here are as true as I can manage. While the
words are my own, they are not independent creative works of fiction
—in any intentional way. Thus I do not consider the material to
be protected by anything, other than that you'd have to be
crazy to want to try and use it for genuine purposes (much less
disingenuous ones!) But who's to say?